Poetry \\// Rock N Roll Smorgasboard
John Robb and Lord Pig have recently been asking regular listeners to send in their poetry, either by email or fax, or as a CD. This segment is proving popular with their regular listeners, and has had people putting in huge efforts for the show.
Here is a collection of some of the best, and wackiest, poetry sent to the show
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Sensory bifurcation
Live Streaming,
Streaming live.
Ron likes streaming,
I feel like screaming.
The daleks, the cyberwitches.
Watch me run in yellow britches.
Now its here, now its on,
Cheer, shout “Ron, Ron, Ron”
This part in song:
I like working for Uncle Ron,
Everyone: He likes working for Uncle Ron.
Eskimo toes are mighty cold,
Everyone: Eskimo toes are mighty cold.
Ron for PM that’s no lie,
He loves Australia and the meat pie.
not as in fear,
as in near.
You could run to the bathroom mirror
or whistle a gentle melody,
but not even the sky is soothing.
I wish I could look not at a roof,
but at a thousand ships as they sail back to Troy.
Now, run to the face
all curry and white,
jump in the fields,
all lies and might.
A deep green may sooth the evening,
yellow hedges are quietly moaning.
Silent fridges are stuffed.
I want to jump.
Jump, jump jump,
Fry, Fry, Fry,
Die, Die, Die-
days are gentle
leave the evening
siblings' moaning,
despise the evening.
~(laugh)~..........
Now you've lost your mind.....
Saxaphone Sarah
On air on the 1st of June 2009
SCHIZOID QUAILS
Schizoid Quails,
Taste like nails.
Late at night you see them most,
Eating lots of cheese on toast.
Hedgehog, hedgehog,
Monotreme, monotreme.
Watermelon, watermelon,
Help me, help me.
The Schizoid Quail,
Will never fail.
It’s coming faster, cluck, cluck, cluck
It’s not a quail it’s a maniacal duck.
Mungo
‘(THE POET’S) HAIL MARY’
Saxaphone Sarah
Hail Mary
full of grace
I’ll come with you to the Lord
and shine my shadows through.
Hail Mary
Conscious being
Relent to my desperate hand
‘fore I settle an ancient land
‘twill be perennial vestige.
Unless I’m just forlorn,
Pray, either your face
Or eternal taciturn.
And if I’m to divulge,
My senses
Will impede me not.
My blood will not succeed into posterity,
Nor will my bones become anthro-mosaics,
While my mind can guard them,
If my prayer is answered.
Hail Mary,
Grant me free
Of the divine writings, tenacious, oh Lord
Shine my shadows through,
Amen.
My dear Samantha
I do hold you dear
But it escapes me,
Like the seeds of a fresh butchered forest.
Please don’t blame my local guide
Do not feed my subtle plees.
Leave the centre of your door open.
Shut the sleet of our temper in.
Is it shut?
Is it SHUT?
…is it shut?
We have made amends.
In the curtail of your sadistic eye,
are the electrodes inflicting penance?
With every sandy glitch, it is known to me
that all of your words are totalitarian
Mix the superior,
Glide the inferior,
Sleep next to the interpreter.
We are here,
In a countenance of transparent blues and soothing detections
Our feasts are equal
Let us make amends.
Oh perfect hand clutch,
Could you be in my contingent?,
a Dionysan woman of today.
How could it be,
we are from the same dimension,
when everyone’s a suitor in their stay?
Oh mendless mind clutch
My adroit, cunning finger,
Pockets own the digits of your dreams.
The stab in history’s continuum,
Bear King’s sword from my presidium
Nav’s me to the year which we could meet.
Song of The Sun
This poem was sent into us by Rich, the lead singer of Jack Inferno, a band we love to play on the show.
every once in awhile i get this feeling seems to fill me up inside dancing on the walls standing on the ceiling i just have to close my eyes no one in the world but me and my shadow painting faces in the sky standing on a rock in the middle of nowhere who is with me myself and i all of a sudden i see the sun floating throught the stars and i can take the magic with me but can i forget who we are no i cannot forget what we are
Animosity
This poem was also sent into us by Rich, the lead singer of Jack Inferno, a band we love to play on the show.
woe to me woe to me for i have suffered for this life the spittle that has flown from my lips in the heat of anger the betrayal of my words again and again the knives cut OH! YOU! you who slovens and wretched I curse ye and all who are so named the hatred the hatred i say cuts deeper than the skin that is reft of life the soul bleeds eternally black and tainted ichor in which i drown my animosity
ALLODILES AND CROCOGATOTRS
Regular listener Mungo sent in this Poetry about who knows what......
Alligators, alligators in my head, Oh I wish, I wish that they were dead. Crocodiles, crocodiles in my mind, Makes a difference to the daily grind. Alligators, alligators, please let me know, Will you leave?, or grow, grow , grow. Crocodiles, crocodiles in my brain, Stole my thoughts, now I’m insane. Alligators, crocodiles, where are you? I look, look, look, maybe they flew. Allodile, Allodile I can’t think straight, A Crocogator, a crocogator, quick close the gate.
Infinity
This poem was also sent in by regular Listener Mungo. It went to air on the 7th of May 2007.
With furious wind and driving rain, I search alone, alas in vain, By ancient lore I cannot find, A way out of this curios bind, The thunder cracks, it takes a toll, Upon my vision and mortal soul. Lying still I dare not ask, Was it you ar a devil set this task? I look, I yearn, I wonder, tomorrow I could be asunder, So tis with haste I now do travel, Curiosly waiting for the time to unravel.
Into the Blue
Regular contributer Mr Porcini, penned this short poem called "Into the Blue". As the Tardis was lost in a time warp on the night of transmission, all earthly data regarding the date of broadcast has been lost................
Into the Blue, Doppled madness confronts the eye, Deep into the liquid odyssy, Colour changes confuse the eye, In the weightless void, The demon awaits, ready to strike, ready to pounce, Otherworldly pleasures turn to terror, Into the Red.
Never they Said
Another poem from Mr Porcini, this went to air on the 19th of February 2007.
Chaos abounds, the river flows anew, Never they said. Checks and balances, Safe in your beds, A populous has no reason not to sleep well, Rulers pretend to care, Rulers who are not fair, Rulers who dare to dare. Work left too late, The cracks appear, The people panic, fear the Monster, The winds and rain, For days and nights, The cracks appear in deadly fright, Never they said, But we live in the Shadow of the Beast.
Ambush
Another poem by Mr Porcini, this went to air on the 6th of February 2007.
The riders appear at last, Over the rise in the road. The dust gave them away a while ago. Stay low, prepare for the oncoming, Dust in our mouths, suddenly hot, Pulse racing, crash crash crash. A shadow falls across our vision, Sudden panic, they have tricked us, Prepare your swords. Attack with the force of terror, Fury born on betryal, Sudden white hot pain, numbness, blood, Welcome the black void. Vista filled with the boot of our victims, who are now the victors. Our last ambush.
Kill the Goblin
Another poem from Mr Porcini, this went to air on the 24th of September 2007.
The length of steel flexes, smashing and rending, Total suprise in the eyes, Anexplosion in the head, No pain, only the initial shock, Red wash, Sudden red wash, Feel the power, the fear. Step into the void, The sudden stop, then the parting. Death visits again.
The Quick Fix
Another poem from Mungo, a regular poetry contributor, this short piece called The Quick Fix went to air on the 4th December 2006.
Looking at answers and not the Question, Has become an often futile obsession, We want the answers right and now, Not concerned with why or how, In leaders I would hope to find, A character akin to the tough and grind, Instead I fear we look for magic tricks, Solutions all at once, the ultimate quick fix.
Avernus Awaits
Another poem from Mr Porcini, this one is called "Avernus Awaits". It went to air on the 6th February 2007.
Avernus awaits those who do greed, The Dukes of Hell await those who do speed, Understanding is the key to survival, Power within allows the route to revival. Do unto others, the Holy Book says, We shall all live together, not in a mess. Look to the skies, pray for the rain, Avernus awaits with pitch forks and pain.
The Hero of Rouse Hill
Below is a poem sent into us by a listener. It is entitled 'The Hero of Rouse Hill'
This is an ongoing poem, and it will be added to as time goes on. Please keep checking back to see what the next part has in stall.
PART ONE: Ron ran down the road raving at the moon, If he can reverse his brain he'll be back in hospital soon. Go Ron, Go Ron, Go Ron, Go Ron. Off to the farm for a bit of a laugh, Don't drink the pear juice, it's full of Larg, Always play with a nice straigt bat, Said the Nurse who had parked his car on a cat. Yak, yak, yak, Ron's a maniac, Grab him quickly, grab him hard and throw him on his back, Take him to a picture show or maybe to the quack. Quak, Quak, Quak Rons got a hairy back, Take him the Mountain, but not to Crackenback, Introduce him to a tree, make sure he eats a flea, Make sure he's got his glasses on so that he can see. PART TWO: Ninng nang Ron, ning nang wrong Where on earth is Ring rang Wrong With a nick Knack paddy whack Give poor Ron a bone, Send him to his nong nong home. Blue Green Red, A friend of mine Ron said, wants to live in Bed, Tell him no please Ron, it's no good for his head, You may not understand said Ron, He's not a Human Being, He's a Vampire by trade and married to the Queen. Super Rons got no brain, Super Ron, he's insane, Super Ron flies through the air, Super Ron with his head like a hare. Red Green Blue If Ron is so Super, Then who told you, Did he just invent this Superness of his, If we challenge his ideas, will he have a tizz? Flies through the air, his head like a hare, the line above me says, But what's that on Rons head I ask, Is it just a Fezz? PART THREE: Give me an R, R Give me an O, O Give me an N,N What have you got RON Ron, Ron, Ron Bravest of them all Looking for the tooky bird staring at the wall Give him money, give him love Maybe even a great big shove PART FOUR: He runs his brain forwards Then he finds reverse When his brain talks back to him He finds it quite perverse Up into the burning sky Ron did have a look, A lot of stuff Ron thought about he'd written in a book, Of Prophecies and Demons and a giant rubber chook, Ron's convinced they all are real, but asks you not to look, He's terrified you see, of the bird they call the Took, Big enough to eat a car, with tallons sharp like hooks. PART FIVE: One, two, three, four Ron's at the kitchen door, Make like a tiger, make like a fish If you jump he'll grant your wish Tooky tooky, psycho chooky Scream out loud and have a looky Ron is good, Ron is great, Find the chook and don't be late. Fee Fie Foe Fum Ron’s got an itchy Thumb, Do not despair for he’s not dumb He’s simply been drinking too much rum, All week long he sips and sups, Till his eyes go blurry, And his nips go lumb. PART SIX: All along the watch tower, Ron’s walking full of power, Is this to be Rons finest hour Or shall he get on the grog once more And all his power thus hit the floor Around about Ron spins and turns, We wait to see just what he learns, The butter is turning as it churns and churns, Rons not the man from the Submarine, But he does look Yellow as he grabs his spleen In the town where I was born, Lived an old man they called him Ron. He lived alone, he wore a hat, No one knew where he was at. He smoked cigars and he drank beer, He raved alot about his ear. We all love Ronnie Ronnie Ron, Ronnie Ronnie Ron Ning a ning a Nong. We all love Ronnie Ronnie Ron, Ronnie Ronnie Ron. I bet you'll ning nang nong. PART SEVEN: Chooky, chooky, Have a looky, Have a look at Ron, His brain is in the tooky tree, The size of a schizoid pea. I’ve never heard of a pea in a tree Said Ron from branches high From way up here I think I can see Quiet well, like an Eagle Eye Chooks taste nice to Eagles they do For my name is Ron, But who am I? Ron I am, I am Ron, A figment in the sky A question that needs answering, I’m Ron, but who am I? A quandary, a quizzical note, a question on the fly, I already know my name is Ron, but who the hell am I? PART EIGHT: When you're a ning, You are a ning, nang, nong And when you're a bong, You're a bong,bong, bong. Laugh, laugh, laugh like a cow, Then we all ask Ron why?, He tells us we must wait and wait, Until the brain fish takes the bait. Ron will not have to wait too long The hook is a fresh, and the bait it does pong The celestial water show not a ripple Ron patiently waits, and a flea bites his nipple The pain intensifies and his head is a spin The neural worm becomes bait on a whim. PART NINE: What is the correlation between the worm and Rons’ pain Has the worm turned Ron into a Saint If this is the case, will Ron go on high Time will soon tell if Ron is to die No, we all scream, Ron must not say bye, He can still get a job as the new human fly.
If you are interested in having your poetry read on air, or want to present your own CD (poetry or music), you can contact the boys on smorgasbord1@optusnet.com.au or send your CDs to the station at Poetry at Smorgasbord, 2CCR PO BOX 977 Baulkham Hills 1755.
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